Sight Seeing [The Sanctuary of the Ascendant Flame]

[Calliope]

Whilst he spoke to their gathering, Quillon’s gaze ushered a third Seeker into their midst. Picking up on the subtle cue, Cali’s shift of posture was natural to include the new stranger. Her smile was soft, unconfrontational, and she made a gesture that suggested he was welcome to join them if he wished it. Some preferred to keep their distance the first time they entered the Hall, and there was no fault in it, but others only needed the warmth of an invitation to take that first step. Cali was good at judging the needs of others, at bridging the gap between the untouchable divine with the souls drawn to its wonder but too hesitant to find the path alone.

Her eyes upturned as the hologram moved around them; she experienced it alongside them and not from a Veilwarden’s height, unguarded in her delight no matter how many times she had seen it. The coloured threads of magic shone their soft glow upon her skin as they undulated from the Ascendancy’s upturned palms. She was aware of Mia’s own speechless awe beside her, and was glad to share the beauty of the moment with someone who also allowed herself to feel it so openly.

Wonder didn’t diminish in Cali, not since the first time Quillon had shared this same simulation. The connections between the earth and heavens, webs of life and vitality that underpinned every living thing. She felt it keenly in the hum of the dirt beneath her feet, the promise of a sacred world she could feel but not see. Countless times she had begged Quillon to describe it to her, never tiring of hearing him speak. She didn’t know how anyone could look and remain unmoved by all that it represented, by all that it meant.

Her hands had moved to clasp over her chest. Whatever Sámiel awoke was still vibrating inside, and it only made the moment deeper, yet also harder to define now that its grip on her was fading. The connection there was personal, which she undoubtedly must take as a sign. Though for what she did not know.

Sámiel was right that it terrified her though; it terrified her that it might always remain beyond reach.

Cali’s eyes rounded as the Luminar presented himself from behind her, though the surprised shift of her composure as she adjusted was short lived. So engrossed in the moment, she had not heard his footsteps. His gaze did no more than brush over her in its journey to the others, and Cali did nothing to fight for its attention. Veilwardens communed with the Luminar as he himself did with the Ascendancy, worlds Cali had no part in, but there was a devoted longing in her gaze as he passed by her shoulder.

They followed, and even Sámiel seemed to accept the quiet reverence of the short journey; at least for a moment. When he fell into step next to her, she glanced up, somewhere between wary and fascinated. The irreverence did not bother her, as it would some here, and neither were the depths of Cali’s faith easily shaken by a little ridicule. She never spurned curiosity, and Sámiel was, even if he dressed it up in contrariness. She smiled, amused. “Does that mean you are finally impressed?” It was a tease, not an actual question, the same way his had been.

For the second time he hesitated despite the magnetism of his confidence, choosing to pause at the door so that the others must stream past him. Cali did likewise opposite him, in part to welcome the others inside, and in part because it felt a natural placement. Mia seemed content to experience whatever happened, open minded even if sceptical, but the man who’d joined them seemed less enamoured of his place here. She wanted to ask his name, but silence wrapped him like a shroud, and she did not choose to pierce it. But if he did not rush away after, she would seek him out; find out what path he was walking and why it had led him here.

Sámiel was the last to enter. When she looked up at him as she passed by first, something stirred inside from the tendrils of that connection; she was careful not to touch him.

[Luminar]

The Chamber of Echoes was unlike other spaces within the Sanctuary. Theron stepped into the threshold, halting for a moment as the reverent hush of the room enveloped him. The chamber was spherical, its design both elegant and austere, exuding an air of timelessness that spoke to its purpose. The walls curved inward slightly, giving the impression of being held within the palm of a great unseen hand. They were a polished stone, their surface dark and gleaming, almost obsidian-like, reflecting the faint light of the chamber with a ghostly shimmer.

Intricate, golden inlays spiraled across the walls in patterns resembling the branching veins of a leaf or the flowing paths of rivers not unlike the design of his robes. The gold caught the light and seemed to shift as one moved through the space, drawing the eye along its arcs and swirls as if guiding it toward some unseen center. These inlays weren’t just ornamental—they were conduits for sound, their paths carefully engineered to guide even the faintest whisper through the chamber with precision. It was an architectural symphony, built to amplify not noise, but meaning.

Overhead, the ceiling domed gracefully, and at its apex, a faintly glowing crystal was embedded—a luminous, iridescent orb that cast soft, prismatic light across the chamber. The light shifted subtly, bathing the room in hues that transitioned from deep indigo to golden amber, mimicking the shift from twilight to dawn. This symbolic interplay of darkness and light reminded all who entered of the Veil’s mysteries, a threshold that once crossed, revealed powerful truths.

The floor beneath was a mosaic of smooth stone, cool to the touch and laid in a circular pattern that seemed to spiral inward. At its center was a small disc—a simple circle of dark stone ringed with faintly glowing lines of light. It was here that the Luminar stood when leading ceremonies, the acoustics of the chamber ensuring that his voice, no matter how soft, would carry to every corner.

What truly set the Chamber apart, however, was the whispering acoustic effect that had earned it its name. The walls seemed alive with sound, carrying even the faintest breath or murmur from one side of the room to another with crystalline clarity. A voice uttered in one side would travel, unbroken, to the opposite side, arriving with the same intimacy as if it had been spoken directly into one’s ear. It was unsettling at first, a reminder of how nothing could remain hidden beneath the power of the Ascendancy. Every word, every sound, became part of the room’s living fabric, resonating and echoing until it faded into the quiet pulse of the space itself.

“The Chamber of Echoes,” Theron finally said, his voice carefully resonating softly against the curved walls. The acoustics made it seem as though his words emanated from everywhere at once, filling the space without overpowering it. “This is a place where the boundaries between sound and silence blur. Where the voice becomes reflection, and reflection echoes into revelation.”

He allowed the group to take in the room’s grandeur, its eerie intimacy and perfect design. His hands were folded behind his back, his posture regal and unyielding. The faint light from the crystal above refracted off his golden threads, lending him an ethereal glow that only heightened his presence.

“Here,” he continued, his tone steady and deliberate, “we seek not to speak louder, but to listen deeper. The Chamber does not simply carry sound—it carries meaning, intention, and truth. If there is deception in your voice, the Chamber will know—you will know. If there is doubt in your heart, the echoes will betray you. And if there is faith within you—true faith—it will resonate, and you will feel it.”

His gaze swept over the group, lingering briefly on Sámiel, Calliope, and Mia before moving to Quillon and Seraphis. Each was lit faintly by the soft glow of the room, their shadows long against the curved walls. He guided each person, including the Veilwardens, to equidistant positions along the rim of the sphere, then he himself descended to the lowermost disc.

“The threshold lies close here,” Theron said softly as he stood upon the low disc, his words an invocation more than a statement. “What waits beyond listens, as do we. You may find answers in its whispers, or questions you never thought to ask. Either way, this chamber will reveal something to you.”

“Please be seated,” he said, his voice carrying through the chamber with perfect clarity. “Let us begin.”

Divided into five areas, the chamber walls represented each of the elements of the Ascendancy’s power. One by one, the elements were introduced to the listeners. Theron remained standing, his face turned upward to the crystal positioned directly above him. The light flickered and pulsed as if reacting to him as he reached into the Veil and seized its power into himself.

Earth

“Place your palms upon the floor,” he spoke quietly, yet to his own ears, the echo seemed loud. Immediately afterward, the sound of deep, grounding vibrations from gongs, drums, and low-frequency tones followed. Vibrations reverberated through the stone, a tactile connection reminded them of their rootedness in the material world and the interconnectedness of all things. 

He pulled at one of the elements from the Veil, twining it around himself without purpose or reaction, simply to feel its resonance. “Earth represents stability, grounding, and the physical world. It is the foundation upon which all things grow,” he explained.

Water

The gongs ceased their sounding as they moved to the second element. “Focus on the fluidity of the sound moving through the chamber,” he instructed, and flowing, rippling sounds from chimes, and singing bowls washed around them.

As he had before, he now pulled at the corresponding thread from the Veil, absorbing its resonance. “Water symbolizes adaptability, emotion, and the flow of life. It represents cleansing and the ability to navigate the unknown.”

Fire

The chimes ceased their sounding as they moved to the third element. “Focus now on your inner passions, the flames that drive you forward, and how to transform obstacles into opportunity.” The instruction was followed by crackling sounds from shakers, clapping rhythms, and sharp percussive instruments.

As before, he now pulled at the corresponding thread from beyond the Veil, absorbing its resonance. “Fire represents transformation, passion, and the energy of creation. It is the spark that ignites change.”

Air

The crackles ceased their sounding as they moved to the fourth element. “Close your eyes and focus on your breath, synchronizing it with the external. Reflect on your inner thoughts and how they connect to the larger world.” Whispering tones from flutes, soft wind instruments, and ethereal chanting filled the space and entered their skulls.

As before, he now pulled at the corresponding thread from beyond the Veil, absorbing its resonance. “Air embodies communication, intellect, and the unseen connections between all things. It represents breath and the freedom of thought.”

Spirit

The winds ceased their sound as they moved to the last element. “Open your hands as you open your heart, and hold them toward the center of the chamber. Release this energy into the collective we all share.“ Resonant harmonies created by the blending of all previous elements, enhanced with bells, crystal bowls, and vocal toning swirled around them. As he pulled upon spirit from the Veil, the sound built into a harmonious crescendo that flooded his soul before fading into silence. It lingered quietly, this climatic moment, before his voice softly intoned once more: “Spirit represents unity, transcendence, and the power that binds all existence together.”

As the sounds of spirit faded into silence, the vibrations leaving his body, Theron guided them into a moment of reflection.

“Earth grounds you. Water cleanses you. Fire transforms you. Air frees you. And Spirit binds us all.”

The chamber amplified the words, allowing them to resonate and echo across the space. It was common for one element to resonate more strongly than others, and he inquired as much. “Did one call to you? What do you hear within yourself?”

It was not uncommon for those participating in the Elemental Sound Bath to be moved physically. Their heart rates may increase or slow, their breathing may relax or quicken, and they may be moved to tears. The sounds, sensations, and moment of meditation swung the nervous system from alert to relaxed, and that pendulum was powerful. Those who could channel might also reach through the Veil for the first time, guided in such a way. Theron turned in a slow circle, examining each face for insight into their own reactions.

[Mia Wolf]

The room was unique and strange and the words reverberated in her soul. Mia didn't pay much attention to the words but the feelings from the sound in the room. Each word echoed through her mind bouncing from neuron to neuron. Mia put her hands to her head, pressing her fingers to her temples. It was like a migraine forming -- a bad way to go if your brain exploded crossed her thoughts. It wasn't her thought.

Mia.... What...

The presentation went on and Mia's eyes closed, her fingers pressed to her temples. She took deep breaths trying to calm the feeling inside.

The sounds ended. The whatever ceased. The words echoed in her ears there no real connection to the meaning and she looked up, at the asked quetion. "Sorry, what?"

[Anton]

This room spoke to Anton, and he took a seat when directed. The acoustics of the room were something that as a musician Anton could appreciate and feel. Anton decided to close his eyes, and just let the sound speak to him. For the first time since he had arrived here, he opened his mind and let it wander.

And his gift disappeared. Not because it was gone because as The Luminar began to speak of the elements, the emotions of others were carried away as he became lost in the emotions of another.

Earth - He descended into the Earth full of sadness at a lost love, but a resolve to move forward through the a dark tunnel that threatened to overcome him - the darkness held back only by a song.

Water - A ferryman, barring his path, making a decision to allow the man to cross.

Fire - The lair of a god, passage granted in reluctance by the master

Air - A bargain - loved returned - but at a cost

Spirit - a return to the Earth above - doubt - failure - and death.

Suddenly he was brought back to reality, the emotions of those around him flooded his senses. Had he not "left" they wouldn't have been so overwhelming. But those - filled with the images from before hit him like a brick. The images - they had felt more real than dreams - Anton knew what they referred to. Not long ago, he had played the part on the stage, but why? Why did this place bring them to his mind, and why so vividly.

Anton wasn't sure when the tears had started falling. He remained silent, not aware that any questions had been asked, instead he wrapped his arms around himself. He focused his senses on the Luminar, who for some reason was completely blank to him. He found some stability in that. Still, his heart beat heavily in his chest and he shivered as if cold.

[Sámiel]

Sámiel had not intended to channel.

The pulse of Spirit hit like a hammer in his chest, rattling his bones. The Veil whispered, no—it screamed—and before he knew it, he was sinking into the weight of it, the sound filling him to bursting. For a moment, he was not himself. He was everything. Everything wild. Everything dark. A shadow at the edge of flame. A wolf in a forest of brittle leaves. A laugh that breaks the silence of the grave.

He wasn’t even sure when he crossed the threshold from passive participant to something far more visceral. The sound, the resonance, the layers of carefully constructed meaning that radiated through the chamber—it had crept under his skin and found the places where he was raw and unguarded. It twisted, teased, and finally struck, cracking him open like a gourd on his own festival night. He hadn’t fought it; why would he? Chaos demanded surrender, and Sámiel was its favored son.

The silence that followed such a climatic conclusion was thick with the resonance of what had just occurred. Sámiel remained still, his palms still faintly tingling with the echoes of the energetic spells he had pulled into himself. The chamber seemed to breathe around him, alive with a charge that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t chaotic, not exactly. It was potential. Uncertainty. That fleeting moment before an audience knows whether to applaud or hold its breath.

Sámiel tilted his head slightly, his eyes sweeping across the others as though savoring the taste of their reactions. Some were wide-eyed, their expressions teetering between awe and unease. Others avoided his gaze entirely, their discomfort palpable. It was intoxicating, this quiet tension. He let it linger, let them sit in the stillness of it.

He rose slowly, his movements fluid, almost serpentine. The faint light from the crystal above caught on the sharp angles of his features, carving shadows across his face that seemed to deepen the longer he stood there. His gaze finally settled on the Luminar, but only briefly. Then it moved to Calliope, then Mia, then Quillon and the stranger, pausing on each of them as if reading something unseen in the air around them. He didn’t smile, not exactly, but there was something in his expression—a quiet, predatory satisfaction.

“The Veil,” he murmured, his voice soft but carrying through the chamber with unnerving clarity, “has a way of taking what it wants, doesn’t it?” He lifted one hand, studying his own fingers as though they belonged to someone else, as though he could still feel the energy of the Veil clinging to his skin. “I wasn’t planning to touch it. But it seems… it had other ideas.” He pondered this usurped moment when his body became a vessel for the powers beyond. The notion was etched within his very soul, he had designed a show so similar at the carnival, it was eerie, even to him. The Veil’s Embrace, he thought and looked up, daring the Luminar to confess his ability to run his fingers across the brail stamps of his mind. If there was a way to lure a specter like Sámiel into the embrace of the Brotherhood, this was it.

His words were low, intimate, almost conspiratorial. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, yet it felt as though he were addressing everyone in the room. He took a slow step forward, the sound of his shoes barely a whisper against the floor. The chamber’s acoustics amplified even the faintest noise, turning the small movement into something larger, more deliberate.

He gestured faintly toward the space around him, a slow, deliberate sweep of his hand. “This chamber,” he said, his tone rich with dark reverence, “is magnificent. Truly. The way it holds sound. The way it bends the air. The way it pulls at something just beneath the skin.” His gaze flicked toward Theron again, and this time, his lips curved into a faint smile—sharp, knowing, and faintly unsettling. “It’s a show, isn’t it? And a fine one at that.”

Sámiel’s gaze returned to the group, his eyes flicking from one face to the next, drinking in their reactions. He could feel it—the heightened pulse of the ritual, the way the chamber amplified not just sound but emotion. Fear. Awe. Curiosity. It was all there, swirling just beneath the surface, and it fed something deep within him.

His gaze lingered on Calliope for a moment, something dark and unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, almost as if remembering himself, he tilted his head slightly, his expression softening into something almost playful. Almost.

“Bravo,” and he began to clap.

[Calliope]

Cali stared up with reverence as the Luminar positioned her within the Chamber of Echoes. The lightest touch at her shoulder filled her with warmth and deepened the breath in her chest. She had taken part in the elemental sound bath before, but never when it had been led by him. Soft light washed them in twilight colours that hemmed the moment in divine intimacy, welcoming her into the embrace of ritual that arrested not the eyes, or even the mind, but the essence of her willing spirit. She knelt in submission.

When Quillon welcomed her here as a curious Seeker, the envelopment of earth and water had been her first ever self-revelation. Back then she’d been dabbling in pagan practices with some other MSU students, half aware of that raw and abundant magic curled like a seed inside her. But here, surrounded by it, she had come to understand the connections of her own voice to the verdant growth of green things, the beauty and rootedness of a natural world so many forgot; a world in which she flourished.

Her fingers flexed against the tiles, as though to press into the cool, damp earth. She could almost smell its rich promise. Her eyes closed.

Fire ignited the welcome of summer’s profusion after the patient work of spring; warmth and union, as primal and robust as heartbeat’s song, bursting and engorged with life, vitality, joy. Air spiked the flames, offering purification and rebirth, but in the glory of hope and desire nothing ever came. Her forehead sank to the floor, arms outstretched as she let herself immerse in something so tangible she was almost there; flowers, flames, ashy skin. Laughter. The smell of burning cedar.

It was where it usually ended for her. The unseen, ultimately, remained unseen.

When the ritual’s close called for spirit’s unity, it was her promises and passion and devotion she offered with open palms. But today was different. Today the fire’s revelry stretched until it was touched by a little madness; the last vestiges of connection before the long night to come. The veil thinned, not to a magic that harmonised her soul, but to something darker. Wilder.

There was no darkness in the elements. Or there wasn’t supposed to be. Her eyes were closed, but the shadows deepened behind the softness of her lids. Cali did not fight or reject the spectral creep of sensation as it fell across her. When the expected airy chimes shivered across her skin, this time it came with a whisper that felt like the velvet kiss of knives.

Appeasement, it demanded.

Flesh parted like butter, the ethereality of sound becoming the sharper scrape of bone. A casual slit up her spine, across her skull, to spark up across the tiles. Its path sputtered like dying silver flames, becoming a thread that spun out into the darkness. In the stillness of the moment Cali was captivated.

The line grew taut. Gave a violent yank. Not to rip free from her, taking its revelation and secrets away, but in challenge. It pulled.

Eternal struggle. Eternal sacrifice.

When she lifted her head in the silence of the ritual’s end, it was to stare into the cupped palm of her hands. For the briefest moment she thought she saw it still, that silver line, but in the vestiges of such a transformational state she could never be sure. Sámiel had asked before what she had felt, and now in the Chamber of Echoes she discovered the words for it.

Her gaze rose in time to catch the remains of his unreadable look, before that cunning smile and the slow clap of his hands broke the ritual’s spell to weave one of its own. It felt like the sound fluttered all around her head, though she knew that was just the room’s acoustics. Cali did not stand, though her kneeling posture had straightened into graceful poise, and her expression formed something alert and curious. After a moment her lips parted as though to speak, but it faded thoughtfully before the breath left. The enigma of a patient smile replaced it.

[Quillon Hawke]

In the presence of the Luminar, Quillon forced himself into a facade of formality. His hands were clasped tightly before him, but his knuckles betrayed the tension he felt, white with the effort of restraint. He longed—achingly, maddeningly—to grab Calliope and pull her far from the Seeker’s unsettling presence. The moment their hands had touched, an anger like a live wire had threaded through his body, crackling along every nerve. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, that’s what he told himself—it was something far more complicated. Both she and Sámiel had reacted strangely, but it was Calliope he had watched the most, his eyes searching for any signs of distress or ailment.

When her breathing evened, and her composure returned, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. But the thread of unease remained, coiled tight in his chest. He walked close behind her, his shoes echoing faintly in the chamber’s hollow acoustics, his gaze flicking between her and the towering Sámiel, who moved at her side with an unnerving ease, like a wolf weaving through a flock.

The Chamber of Echoes loomed around them, its dark curves and glowing inlays turning the room into an otherworldly cocoon of sound and light. Quillon knelt into place along the room’s rim, the cool floor pressing against his knees as he tried to center himself. He had always loved this ritual. The rhythmic hum of the elements grounding him, the Veil’s power brushing against the edges of perception—it was his connection to something larger than himself, a reminder of why he had devoted his life to the Brotherhood.

But today, he was distracted. The Luminar’s imposing presence dominated the chamber, his every movement deliberate, commanding. Seraphis, as sharp and watchful as ever, seemed to study every shift in the room’s energy with the precision of a predator. And then there was Calliope, her reaction to Sámiel’s touch replaying over and over in Quillon’s mind, gnawing at him. He forced his breathing to match the steady vibrations pulsing through the floor, willing himself to focus, to let the sound dissolve the noise in his head.

As the Luminar reached into the Veil, the shift was unmistakable. The energy of the room deepened, thickened, as though the air itself had grown heavier. Quillon felt the familiar pull, that strange and unnerving moment when the boundary between the physical and the unseen became paper-thin. He remembered the first time he had felt it as an Aethermancer. It had terrified him then—the vastness of it, the power of something he could barely understand. But now, it was second nature.

And yet, as the Luminar’s shadow seemed to stretch and grow, consuming the space with his command of the Veil, Quillon felt something new—a second shadow, raw and chaotic, tearing through the stillness like a jagged tear in fabric. His breath caught, and his eyes snapped across the room, locking onto the source.

Sámiel.

The Seeker hadn’t moved, yet the energy surrounding him was palpable, vibrating with an intensity that bordered on violent. It was nothing like the Luminar’s control—this was wild, untempered, and utterly unmistakable. Quillon’s stomach twisted in a cocktail of awe and dread. He had felt the Veil shift, not for the Luminar, but for him.

By the time the ritual concluded, Quillon’s focus hadn’t strayed. He was still watching Sámiel, his jaw tight as the echoes of the ritual faded into silence. The room seemed to exhale, but Quillon didn’t. Rising to his feet, he moved closer, his voice low but sharp, a blade of quiet accusation cutting through the space between them.

“You Veil Walked.”

The words hung in the charged air, unmistakable, undeniable. His gaze was steady, unblinking, the weight of what he had said sinking in. Sámiel had reached the Veil—an achievement most Seekers never achieved, a skill that set him apart in a way that could not be ignored. For Quillon, it was both a revelation and a reckoning. If Sámiel’s potential was undeniable, then it was his doing. He had brought this Seeker into the fold. No one—not even Seraphis—could take credit now.

A flicker of pride curled at the edge of his thoughts, but he forced it down, suppressing the smile that threatened to break his austere composure. This was no time for celebration—not yet.

He stepped back slightly, his expression hardening, only to watch Seraphis rise quickly and turn her attention elsewhere. His brow furrowed as she moved to Calliope, her sharp movements betraying her usually calm demeanor.

“Calli!” Seraphis’s voice was giddy with excitement, her hands darting out to grasp Calliope’s tightly. Her grip was firm, almost too eager, her gaze searching Calliope’s face with an intensity that bordered on unsettling. “You Veil Walked! Why didn’t you tell us you could?” Her tone was a strange mix of joy and reproach, her words tumbling out in a rush, as though she couldn’t contain them.

Quillon froze, his attention snapping from Sámiel to Calliope. Calliope? He studied her carefully, his mind racing. He hadn’t felt it. Hadn’t noticed. Was it possible? And if it was… why hadn’t she said anything?

His throat tightened, and a new thread of tension coiled in his chest, one born of uncertainty and something far closer to fear. If Calliope could reach the Veil too, what did that mean? For her? For him? For all of them?

And what did it mean that Sámiel had been there when it happened?

The room felt smaller now, the air heavier. As Seraphis clung to Calliope, Quillon’s gaze flicked back to Sámiel. The chaos surrounding the Seeker seemed to linger like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive.

[Mia Wolf]

Mia had walked into the Chamber of echoes but it was Trinity who had been awakened in the chaos and with all the talk of veil walking she extradited herself with ease. Being unseen even in the presence of others was easy when no one was paying attention to you. Trinity said nothing, as she moved slowly towards the sides of the spherical chamber. She watched the others, their attention elsewhere. They didn't bother her, didn't see her. She was of no consequences as things seems to unfurl before them. New things always drew attention and Trinity didn't want to seek attention.

Once to the entrance she slipped out with ease. The chambers beyond were large and just as awe inspiring it was no wonder Mia had found their way here, but now she had to leave. Figure out what had happened, it would be a long and arduous task speaking with Mia via words but it must be done, this must not happen again. Not until it was time. And this was not the time even if they all could channel. It was not her job, it was not her assignment -- not yet anyway.

[Anton]

Anton watched as more unfolded. The one who had scared the girl - someone called her Calli - was being irreverent in Anton's opinion, but then again, what right had he to an opinion on this. Anton hadn't belonged to this church. If church was the right word. Things started to make a little more sense as they began speaking about veil walking. Putting the pieces together, Anton could tell it meant channeling. Both the man and Calli had disappeared from his senses, and the other girl had left. That was useful information at least. It had been the first time he had knowingly been around channelers. Instead of emotions, they were empty. It made the room easier to be in, although the emotions from the images still lingered.

But there was excitement in the room, and suddenly, Anton felt unwelcome. Perhaps it was why the other had left. He couldn't channel, and maybe this wasn't a place for those who couldn't. It seemed as if there was a place for those who couldn't. As far as he could tell, they hadn't thought Calli had the ability, but they just found out. Still, the images haunted him. Anton wanted to leave, but he felt glued to the floor, his eyes moving once again to the Luminar. The man had not yet reacted to the news of these channelers in the room, he didn't know why. He wanted to ask about the images. Ask if that was normal. Ask what it meant. In reality it probably meant nothing. Memories of the opera just mixing with the sound, but he knew deep in his heart that it was something else for one very important reason.

The Opera had a happy ending. His visions did not and his visions had told the real story. The story the myth had shown. Death. Anton stood, turned towards the door to leave, but stopped, turning back to face the room. A room he wasn't sure he belonged in - a room that had made him fear.

[Calliope]

Cali resolved herself to silence because, ultimately, they were talking about the Veil, and it was not her place to speak before the Luminar about something she had no capacity for. Sámiel’s words had revealed an aptitude she found did not surprise her when she considered it. Back in the Hall she had used the term sceptic to flush him out into participation, not to brand him, as he had assumed. She did not think he was really here looking for proof. Her quiet smile was simply one of patience. He clearly wanted the stage, and she decided that perhaps appeasement was the remedy. With her unbowed, alert attention, Cali gave him his audience.

Quillon spoke it plainly into the chamber: that Sámiel really had Veil Walked, as he’d implied. The note of pride in his voice shifted something uncomfortable inside her, slithering Sámiel’s accusations around in her skull. You feel it, don’t you? The pull, the burn of something just out of reach. She swallowed. But faith meant sacrifice. It did not mean envy.

She was about to look for Mia, to discreetly gather her and the other Seeker up. The Sanctum of Reflection would offer somewhere quieter she could take them; they might have questions, need time to recover, or simply want to talk about what they had seen or felt. Lucien was also usually in the library, should they discover the sound bath had ignited an interest in the scriptures.

But Seraphis was excitedly drawing her to her feet before she had a chance to look for either Seeker. Cali’s smile was one of warmth for the unusually exuberant gesture, assuming at first that it was the Veilwarden who must have felt something profound in the sound bath. But it grew to an expression of utter mystification. “I didn’t,” she said. “I can’t.” Her lilting words were quiet, meant in gentle reminder to Seraphis alone, but of course the room shared them freely.